Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

“Spoiled it?” he mocked, and began to pull on his white shirt, covering the broad expanse of his wonderful chest.

“Exactly.”

“Believe me, Olivia, you’d be sorry if I left you here. These people don’t have your best interests in mind.”

“I thought they were your friends!”

“They are acquaintances, and I hold no illusions about their reasons for being here.”

“How do you know I’d feel sorry if you left me here? You don’t know me at all. I might be glad!”

He didn’t seem repentant, and the look he gave her was totally unmoved. “You are coming home. That inn is no place for you. I will have someone collect your belongings and then we will leave.”

Olivia opened her mouth to argue, and then paused as the meaning of his words sank in. “But I thought you were going to Paris?”

“I thought I was, too,” he muttered, stooping to pull on his shoes.

He wasn’t going. He was changing his plans. For her. Olivia tried hard not to let a triumphant smile slip out. She’d won! Not in the way she expected, but nevertheless she had won this bout.

Slowly, as though unwilling, she climbed off the bed and began to straighten her clothing. Now that her head was clearing she couldn’t help but notice her surroundings. The bedchamber was shabby and none too clean, and there was an odd smell coming from the empty fireplace, as if something had died in the chimney. This was not the sort of place she would have chosen to be initiated by Nic into the pleasures of the flesh. She gave a shiver, and then started as his arm came around her shoulders.

“You’re cold,” he said, his deep voice sending more chills up her back. “Did you bring a cloak, Olivia?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll fetch it on our way out. Are you ready? Can you walk in your stockings, or would you rather I carried you?” His eyes slid down, and for a moment he seemed to lose his train of thought, before his gaze skittered away.

Olivia looked down at herself. The décolletage had slipped again, and once more she tugged it up to a respectable height. “I will walk, thank you,” she said. As they went toward the stairs, she noticed Nic was limping quite badly, and she was glad she hadn’t asked to be carried. He’d already carried her from the ballroom, she remembered, and he’d only just recovered from his fall. Had he injured himself further? She thought about asking him, but knew it would only make him cross to draw attention to his infirmity—he seemed to consider his lame leg a weakness of character rather than a physical affliction.

Downstairs, her cloak was fetched, and Nic sent for his coach. When it arrived, Olivia was surprised t

o see Abbot with it. “Miss Monteith!” he said, obviously as surprised to see her. “How…how extraordinary!”

Nic gave his manservant a cool glance. “‘Extraordinary’ is one word for Miss Monteith’s appearance at the demimonde ball, Abbot, but I can think of others. I’m wondering exactly how she managed to get here all by herself.”

Immediately Abbot’s face assumed a blank expression.

“I am very glad to see you, Abbot,” Olivia said, with a reproving frown at Nic. “I did not realize you were attending the ball, too. What do you do while Lord Lacey perambulates?”

Abbot’s mouth twitched. “I wait, Miss Monteith. This ball is not for the likes of me.”

“When you are both quite finished passing the time of day…” Nic interrupted with quiet menace.

Abbot hastily resumed his blank servant face. “I’m sorry, my lord. May I inquire if we are still going to Paris now that Miss Monteith is here? You are not thinking of taking her with us, surely?”

“Do I hear a note of censure in your voice, Abbot?” Nic asked in a silky voice. “I don’t expect my morals to be questioned by my inferiors.”

Abbot stiffened. “I am not questioning your morals, Lord Lacey. I am simply asking whether your plans have altered.”

“As a matter of fact my plans have altered. We’re not going to Paris after all…at least not today. We are going to Miss Monteith’s inn so that you can collect her belongings and find her some slippers, and then we are taking her home to Bassingthorpe.”

Taken off guard, Abbot forgot himself. “Well, I am relieved!”

Nic’s eyes narrowed even more dangerously. “Did you say relieved?”

Abbot hesitated and then appeared to decide that if he was already in trouble, he might as well go ahead and express his true feelings. “We are neither of us getting any younger, my lord. Speaking for myself, I would much rather go home to Bassingthorpe than argue with French domestics when the housekeeping in Paris does not please you.”

Olivia held her breath, prepared for Nic to give his manservant a severe set-down. So it came as a surprise when instead he sighed and said, quite mildly, “You are becoming a bore, Abbot. Especially when you are right. Now if we are quite finished with the nonsense, we must get going, or it will be dawn before we start.”